


For the Greater Good

by SOFreddie



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Angst, Comfort fic, F/M, Fluff, Fluff and Smut, Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-14
Updated: 2019-06-14
Packaged: 2020-05-07 10:17:08
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,712
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19207342
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SOFreddie/pseuds/SOFreddie
Summary: Sam agrees to work a case for an old military buddy of John’s. There’s just one catch…





	For the Greater Good

**Author's Note:**

> Commissioned for @awesomesusiebstuff. Request your own commission!

Sam groaned as Y/N interrupted their heated kiss to bite at his lower lip. He pressed her further into the mattress as the kiss grew hungrier, his hands wandering over her body, stopping to squeeze at her supple flesh, bringing forth moans from her lips. Her hands ran up his shoulders and neck, her fingers tangling in the long, silky strands of his hair and tightening to tug the roots. Sam moaned wantonly and Y/N stifled a giggle, biting her lip as she looked at his face, repeating the action. Sam’s eyes were closed, his mouth parted, as he tilted his head back into her touch, encouraging her to tug once more. **  
**

Sam  _loved_  when she played with his hair. Whether it was a gentle comb-through with her fingers, a playful tug, or a teasing and more forceful pull much as was happening now. The two of them seemed to share a kink for his hair. Not just the pulling, but the hair itself. If Sam ever had a vanity, his hair would be it. The fact that Y/N seemed to like it as much as he was pleasing indeed.

Sam growled on the last tug, now riled up completely and desperate to carry further. His hands traveled under her shirt, pushing it up her body. Before he could remove it completely, they were interrupted by a phone ringing. Sam groaned disapprovingly, choosing to ignore the phone and continue on his mission of enjoying his girlfriend laid beneath him.

“Sam,” she whispered against his lips, “You should get that. Could be important.”

“Busy,” he grumbled, placing wet, sloppy kisses down the column of her neck.

“Sam,” she reiterated more firmly, emphasizing by tugging at his hair once more, but this time to pull him from her and force him to meet her eyes. He gazed at her, seeing her serious expression, and sighed as he reluctantly rose from the bed to search for the source of the ringing. He grabbed his cell phone off the desk, noting that it was not the phone in question, and he frowned. As the ringing picked up once more, he followed the sound to his desk drawer, rifling through the contents until his hand wrapped around the old flip phone that was lit up, vibrating in his hand. It was one of John’s old phones, and Sam knew whatever was on the other end wouldn’t be pleasant.

“Hello?” Sam answered, not recognizing the number on the screen and looking back at Y/N with a smirk.

“Hello,” the man’s voice echoed through the phone, “I’m looking for John Winchester.”

Sam’s brow furrowed as he now focused on the phone call, “He's…no longer with us,” Sam answered with a heavy heart. Though it had been some time since his father passed, the wound never seemed to heal.

“Is this Dean?” the voice asked and Sam’s posture straightened at the question. Whoever this was, they knew about their father and  _them_. Generally, that wasn’t a good thing.

“Who’s asking?” Sam’s tone was more firm as his suspicions grew and he put his guard on high alert.

A heavy sigh came through the line, followed by the clearing of a throat, “My name is Tom Guildford,” the man responded, “I served with your father many years ago. I’ve run into an issue that could use your expertise. I’d like to arrange a meeting to discuss the situation.”

Sam was reluctant to accept. For one thing, he didn’t know this person. But whoever they were, they claimed to be an old friend of John’s. In Sam’s mind, that meant they were obligated to help if they could. Dean was still healing, having broken his leg on their last case, and couldn’t hunt until the cast came off. After exchanging a few more details, Sam agreed to drive to Virginia and meet with Tom. They had traveled for cases on much less.

Sam gathered Dean and Y/N and explained to them the phone call he received. The two of them insisted on tagging along, neither wanting Sam to go on his own in case something went wrong. Though Dean wasn’t capable of much with his leg in a cast, Y/N had hunted with them for years and both Sam and Dean trusted her as a reliable and competent back-up. **  
**

The trip to Virginia took two days. The three of them dropped off their belongings and freshened up in a local motel not far from the infamous military town. Tom had said he had served with John but didn’t state that he still currently served. The new information made them all a little more uncomfortable. After arriving, Sam had called Tom and they agreed to meet at a local, family restaurant outside of town.

The restaurant was outdated, as most of the businesses in the area appeared to be. As the three of them entered, Sam looked around, trying to spot anyone who might stand out. The restaurant was pretty empty, save for a few people here and there. It was mid-afternoon, causing a lull between lunch and dinner rushes. A man sat at the counter turned on his stool, looking the trio up and down before he slowly approached.

“Winchester?” the man asked. He was built very much like Dean, with similar height and build, and a tight buzzcut that screamed military.

“Tom?” Sam cautiously answered. When the man nodded, Sam extended his hand for a shake and the man accepted, “This is my brother, Dean, and our partner, Y/N,” he introduced, Tom shaking each of their hands in turn. Whenever conducting business, Y/N insisted on being referred to - and treated as - a partner or part of the team as opposed to Sam’s girlfriend. She liked to keep business and personal separate and the brothers both respected and admired that.

“I’m Sergeant Major Tom Guildford,” Tom explained as he gestured for the group to follow him, “General McClellan and I have reserved one of the private dining rooms in the back,” he led the way to the mentioned room, opening the door and closing it behind them as they all came in.

After introductions and niceties were exchanged, they all sat around the large table to get down to business.

“So,” Dean began, “You served with our father?”

“We both did,” Joseph stated with a confirming nod, “He was a good man and a damn fine Marine. I’m sorry for your loss.”

“Forgive me, General,” Sam chimed in, “But I’m not sure what we can do to help the military.” He was reluctant to go into too much detail, seeing as how military and law enforcement never really saw eye-to-eye with the Winchesters.

“Joseph is fine, Son,” the General said with a smirk, “Let’s skip the formalities and get down to brass tax here gentleman,” he said a little more firmly, “We are aware that after John left the military, he found himself in the world of the supernatural, as he called it,” Sam and Dean both shifted in their seats slightly as they waited for him to continue, “I’ll admit, I thought John had gone a bit crazy when he talked about it. But he had proved it to us. I was certainly shocked at the knowledge, but never really paid it any mind as it never affected me.”

“So what changed?” Dean inquired.

Tom passed a file folder across the table to the brothers and began to explain as they perused the file and contents marked  _Top Secret_.

“PFC Steven Miller. His bunk-mate was the most recent victim in a string of unusual deaths. The only common denominator between the victims was a connection to Miller. The U.S. Military would never understand, nor support, a supernatural finding. Thus, they’ve arrested and detained Miller pending an investigation.” **  
**

“I fail to see how this involves us,” Dean stated as he continued viewing the file’s contents.

“I took a statement from Miller,” Tom explained, “The statement in the official file there is  _edited_  for official purposes,” he pulled forth another piece of paper from his case and passed it to Dean. Dean quickly scanned the paper, his eyes going wide, as he passed it to Sam for him and Y/N to look over.

“Periods of memory loss, no recollection of actions or surroundings…sounds like possession,” Sam stated, looking at the pair of Marines.

“Yeah, but Demon or Spirit?” Dean scoffed, shaking his head, “It’s certainly in our ballpark,” Dean continued, talking to Tom and Joseph, “But I’m not sure we can do what we need to on an  _active_ military base.”

“You don’t need to worry about that,” Joseph stated, “Tom here can provide necessary IDs, uniforms, and access. I can prepare the paperwork, make it look like you’re a transfer. We get marines all the time transferring in and out at a moments notice, so no one will be suspicious. It is imperative, however, that this is kept quiet. No one can know. If anyone finds out we’re on some damn ghost hunt, it’ll cost us our careers and land you two in hot water for impersonating a marine, amongst other things.”

“I’m not sure how we’re gonna pull this off,” Tom stated, looking over the brothers and Y/N, “Women are a rarity and kept separate from the men,” he began, looking at Y/N apologetically, “You’d be the preferred candidate, as you  _look_  the part, but you’re clearly injured and wouldn’t be able to have unfettered access in your condition,” he nodded towards Dean, before turning to Sam, “We could work with you, however,” he stopped at Sam, “But there’ll have to be some changes.”

“Changes?” Sam asked, clearly confused.

“Your hair, Son,” Joseph said with a slight grimace, “No Marine would  _ever_  be allowed hair like that. It’s against uniform code. If we’re gonna pull this off and save Miller, you’re gonna have to pose as an active Marine. Physically, I think you’ll do just fine. But the hair’s gotta go.”

“What?!” Y/N screeched in surprise, the first time she had spoken during the whole encounter, “Cut his hair?!”

“Heh,” Dean huffed a laugh, “FInally get to take a pair of clippers to that gorgeous mane of yours, Sammy.”

“No!” Y/N protested.

Sam was sat in a bit of a shock. His initial reaction was to say no, to brush it off like he did every time someone suggested he needed a haircut. But this time was different. Neither Y/N nor Dean could do this job, that much he was certain. Was he really prepared to let an innocent man’s life be ruined over a haircut?

“I’ll do it,” Sam affirmed, swallowing hard and trying to hide the flurry of emotions welling up within him.

“Sam-” Y/N began, but Sam quickly cut her off.

“It’s just hair,” he said with a smirk, “It’ll grow back. What’s a haircut compared to a man’s life or the lives of others?” he added with a serious tone. He watched as Y/N’s shoulders slumped and she reluctantly gave in, falling silent once more as she stared at the table, “I’ll do it. Just tell me what I need to do.” **  
**

The trio silently entered their motel room after concluding their meeting with Tom and Joseph. Sam agreed to meet Joseph the following day to receive the IDs and uniforms as needed for the job. Y/N hadn’t spoken a word since her outburst at the restaurant. Sam couldn’t blame her. He was feeling pretty distraught over the situation himself. Though the logical part of his mind kept reminding him it was just hair, no big deal, it’ll grow back, the  _emotional_  side of him was  _crushed_.

Sam wasn’t a vain person. In fact, he didn’t think much of himself as a person. But his hair…it was one thing he was both proud and fond of. As much as John or Dean always picked on him for the longer hair, it was something that was  _his_  choice, and under  _his_  control. He enjoyed caring for it, running his hands through it, and the compliments he’d receive - mostly from women - that boosted his confidence. But it was also a curtain, a way for him to shield himself or hide. Without his hair, he doubted if there was anything special about himself.

He didn’t vocalize these feelings, knowing Y/N would be the first to go on a tirade about all of the qualities she found endearing and important about him. Hell, even Dean might chime in. But Sam didn’t want comfort at that moment. He  _wanted_  to mope about the impending loss of something he considered his ‘one true beauty’.

“Alright,” Dean said, forcing an upbeat attitude to break through the melancholy plaguing the room, “I guess we should look for a barber in the area.”

“No,” Sam spoke up, looking at Dean before steadying his gaze on Y/N, “I want Y/N to do it.”

“What?” Both Dean and Y/N choked out in surprise, “Why me?” Y/N added in a small voice.

“Because I trust you,” Sam shrugged. After a long, silent stare-off between the two of them, Y/N let out a long sigh, her shoulders slumping as she silently nodded. Dean retrieved his own pair of clippers - which he took with him everywhere - from his duffel and plugged them in while Y/N set up a chair in the middle of the room and urged Sam to sit. He quickly removed his shirt and settled into the chair, trying to steal his nerves before he chickened out.

He relaxed somewhat as Y/N laid a hand on his shoulder from behind, before jumping slightly at the sound of the buzzing clippers coming to life.

“You’re a selfless man, Sam,” Y/N stated, before steadying her hands and bringing the clippers to his hairline. At the first swipe of the clippers moving along his scalp and the feel of his feather-light hair falling on his shoulder and tumbling down his torso, Sam forced his eyes shut. On the outside, he appeared relaxed, letting Y/N do what was necessary. On this inside, however, was a different story.

With each tuft of hair that fell from his head, Sam felt almost as if pieces of himself were falling away. He started up a mantra in his head:  _It’s just hair. It’ll grow back. It’s JUST hair!_  The clippers moved unhindered through his locks, and Sam felt as if layers were peeling away from his spirit like an onion. The gentle draft in the room became more apparent as it breezed over his scalp. He felt exposed and almost as if he were being punished for something he didn’t understand. He peeked open one of his eyes, tilting his head slightly to catch a glimpse of his lap. The long and slightly curled tufts of hair laying randomly over his stomach and thighs reminded him of the small curls parents would collect from their child’s first haircut, multiplied by the years he had worn said locks. He quickly closed his eyes once more, knowing if he  ****continued to look, the panic attack he felt bubbling within him would break free. He tightened his hold on the arms of the chair as he tried to focus his mind on the case or anything other than what was being done to him.

Dean watched on, his best poker face in place. As much as he had always joked about cutting Sam’s hair, actually seeing it made his stomach churn. It was unfamiliar and Sam was barely recognizable. He  _always_  had shaggy or long hair. Ironically enough, he now looked like the 'good little soldier’ their father always wanted him to be. That thought made his stomach twist once more. **  
**

As the buzzing of the clippers ceased, Sam could hear a sniffle come from Y/N behind him as she gingerly ran her hands over his head, wiping away errands strands of hair and checking that the cut was even. He opened his eyes and looked over his shoulder at Y/N as she focused on wiping the hairs from his body with one of the motel towels. He could see the tears streaming down her face and offered her a reassuring smile. He stood from his seat and looked at her and Dean.

“So?” he asked, hoping he didn’t look as horrible as he felt, “How’s it look?”

After a brief, awkward silence, Dean spoke up, “Textbook high and tight,” Dean forced a smile, “Long overdue,” he joked, but Sam could hear the pretense in his brother’s voice. With a deep breath, Sam walked to the bathroom mirror to take in his new appearance.

_Utter and absolute shock_. That’s all Sam could muster as he looked at his head. Where once there was his long, flowing mane was now short-shorn stubble, shorter even than Dean’s had ever been.  _This is necessary_ , he reminded himself, tentatively bringing a hand up to run over his head.  _It’ll grow back_. Sam could feel the tears building up and he mustered all the strength he could manage to fight them back. He didn’t even recognize the person staring back at him, and that shook him to his core.

Forcing himself to bury his feelings, which he had grown accustomed to over the years, Sam exited the bathroom appearing for all the world as if it really was no big deal. He could see the forlorn looks on his brother and girlfriend’s faces and he shrugged, forcing a playful, light-hearted smirk to his face.

“Maybe now it’ll grow back thicker,” he joked, laughing it off, “I’m gonna hop in the shower, get all this hair off me,” he smiled once more, grabbing his things for the shower and stopping at the bathroom door to look at them once more, “Stop acting like someone just died, geez!” he rolled his eyes before closing the door behind him. He was grateful for the sound of the shower as it drowned out his cries.

The case took longer than expected, a full two weeks to be exact. Sam had quickly found that almost everyone on base was trained to be tight-lipped. He was able to pull off being an enlisted who transferred in from another base and his departure was covered as another transfer out, which apparently was pretty commonplace.

Turns out a vengeful spirit was responsible for the recent deaths and injuries. A former enlisted, PFC William Santiago, had been murdered in a hazing attempt twenty-seven years prior, and Miller’s father was one of the men involved. Santiago was possessing Miller to take revenge against the other perpetrator’s children and to ruin Miller’s own reputation.

After Sam had discovered this, he reported to Tom and Joseph with his findings and what was needed to lay the spirit to rest. Santiago had been buried in a non-military cemetery not far from base, which allowed Sam to easily salt and burn the body.

Unbeknownst to him at the time, several people witnessed the ghostly form of Santiago being forcefully pushed from Miller’s body before going up in flames. With several eye-witness accounts and even video evidence of the incident, Joseph’s commanding officer couldn’t deny the supernatural element. As expected, he was firm in that no one could know what really happened, and helped to make it disappear, clearing Miller from all charges. **  
**

After Joseph and Tom had thanked them, Y/N and the brothers made the trek back to the safety and comfort of the Bunker. Sam kept quiet most of the time, citing that the case was a particularly difficult one and had ground him down. When they reached the Bunker, Dean went off to bed and Y/N excused herself to the shower, telling Sam she’d meet him in their room after. He agreed with a tight smile and watched them disappear before heading to his room.

He opened the door and dropped his bag carelessly on the floor, dragging his feet across the room to the mirror propped atop his dresser. He paused, his face grim and weary, as he looked over himself. He was wearing his standard clothes, the same ones he’d worn many times before. His face had a light stubble, which was also typical. He allowed his eyes to drift to his hair and he simply stared for an immeasurable amount of time. He lifted his hand, slowly rubbing back and forth over the short hairs atop his head, then letting his hand drop dramatically to his side.

He plopped himself down on the side of his bed, feeling the surge of emotions he’d been holding at bay for the past two weeks. Unable to contain it any longer, he let himself cry hard and heavy. Deep down, he knew it was a silly thing to be so upset over. It’s just hair! He mocked himself in his own mind.

Except it wasn’t.

Sam’s hair was a part of who he was, a signature even. Over the past two weeks, he told himself a million rational lies:  _It’s better for hunting. It can’t be grabbed. It’s not in my face or obstructing my vision._  The inner turmoil and confusion over it all made him sob harder and he didn’t hear Y/N enter the room.

“Sam?” she asked, her voice small as she took in the image of Sam, so broken and distraught. She rushed to him, kneeling before him and resting her hands on his knees as he lifted his head to meet her eyes, “Baby, what’s wrong?”

Sam sniffled, trying to stop the flow of tears and failing, “My hair,” he whined, before sobbing hard once more, dropping his head to her shoulder. Y/N hid the slight smirk tugging at her lips as she wrapped her arms around him, rubbing up and down his back to soothe him. She knew he was heartbroken, but somehow, his little whine was so adorable.

“It’ll grow back,” she insisted, cupping his face and looking into his red-rimmed eyes as her thumbs wiped away the tears on his cheeks, “You know it doesn’t change the way I feel about you, right?”

Sam scoffed, “You loved my hair.”

“I  _love_  you, Sam. The hair was just a perk,” she teased, letting her grin show. Sam rolled his eyes and she took the opportunity to rise up, repositioning herself to straddle Sam’s lap, “You’re still  _you_ , Sam,” she ran her hands over his short hair which now felt like soft down against her skin, “And you’re still the  _sexiest_  man I’ve ever laid eyes on.”

Sam simply looked at Y/N as she continued to cup his face, so much exchanged between them without words. His hands found her sides and he clung to her, almost desperately. She smiled warmly as she leaned in, placing a tender kiss against his lips. Sam sighed into it, the contact and familiarity forcing his tensed muscles to relax bit by bit. She tilted her head, gaining a better angle to deepen the kiss as she pressed herself closer to him. She licked at his lower lip and Sam moaned, allowing Y/N’s tongue to taste and explore his mouth, remapping the all-too-familiar terrain.

As Sam relaxed, Y/N seized the opportunity to push him slowly onto his back, never breaking the kiss as she followed him down. **  
**

“I love you,” she whispered against his skin as her mouth trailed down his neck, leaving a trail of gentle kisses. As she reached his collarbone, she began unbuttoning his flannel, placing kisses over each new inch of exposed skin. Sam was familiar with this tactic, but always from the other side. It was different and new and somehow  _needed_  to be on the receiving end of the comforting and gentle love she was providing. He wondered if this light and floaty feeling were what she experienced when he had done the same to her.

As she removed his shirt completely, she took a moment to sit up, running his fingers delicately along his skin and along the lines and muscles and scars that made up Sam. Noticing his breathing picking up, she smirked, leaning down and continuing her gentle kisses, interspersed with a random flick of her tongue here and there, until she reached the waist of his jeans.

She nipped at his hips and ran her tongue along the v-lines as she unfastened his jeans. Standing from the bed, she slowly dragged his jeans and boxers off his long and slender legs, his cock bobbing free of its confines. She stood at the side of the bed, looking Sam up and down, all the delicious golden skin laid bare before her and she subconsciously licked her lips at the sight of his growing arousal. She nodded towards the head of the bed and Sam obediently obeyed, shifting to lay back against the pillows.

He watched as Y/N made quick work of her clothing and his hands itched to reach out for her, to do it himself. But he knew the rules of the scenario - Hell, he’d created them. So in spite of his dominant side aching to take charge, he submitted to her will, relaxing back into the bed. He needed this. Her attention. Her comfort. Her love.

She didn’t tease or draw it out. No, she worshipped every inch of him and Sam felt himself tearing up for another reason entirely. As she took him into her warm and wet mouth, his eyes fluttered closed and he groaned in delight. She worked him slowly, tasting him, using her tongue to trace each vein and sensitive spot she surely knew by heart.

“Baby,” Sam warned in a breathy tone and she released him from her mouth, crawling over him and straddling his hips, grinding herself against him. Sam let a huff of breath in surprise at how wet she was. He hadn’t done a thing to her, but she was already so ready for him, so turned on by him. As she lowered herself onto him, accepting his now hard and throbbing shaft into her body, he felt his heart swell to the point of nearly choking him.

“You okay, Sam?” she whispered against his lips, one hand cupping his face, the other holding herself up as she settled flush against him.

“I am now,” he admitted with a playful smirk, wrapping his arms around her to hold her close to him. She rode him slowly, switching between rocking back and forth and lifting herself, only to slide back down glacially. Sam felt nearly overwhelmed - from his emotions, from the feel of her body, from the slow and gentle lovemaking she was bestowing upon him. Every touch, every move, caused the thoughts and insecurities he had to melt away until they were no longer present in his mind. As they both grew closer to their release, Sam clung to Y/N tightly, pumping his hips to meet her thrusts, their pace increasing in anticipation of their mutual climax.

Y/N let out the most beautiful sounds as she let go and the vision of her above him, head thrown back in bliss, her walls fluttering around him, brought on his own end. She collapsed onto his chest and he held her to him as they caught their breath.

She shifted to move off of him and his hold tightened around her, “No,” Sam pleaded quietly, “Stay. Please. Just like this.”

She hummed and nodded, placing a kiss in the dip of his neck, flexing her walls once more to draw a gasp from Sam’s lips, making her chuckle. He swatted her ass playfully, causing them both to giggle. **  
**

“Thank you,” Sam whispered as they drifted off, grateful for the comfort and love she provided him.

“I love you, Sam.  _All_  of you.”

_It’s just hair_ , Sam thought, now less bitter than before,  _It’ll grow back_. He smirked, knowing it would only be a few months before the length would come back in and knowing anytime he felt insecure about it, Y/N would be there to remind him he was more than just his hair.


End file.
